


close your eyes and make a wish

by anakinleias



Category: From Dusk Till Dawn: The Series
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Established Relationship, F/M, Future Fic, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Married Life, Multi, References to Drugs, mexican honeymoon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-29
Updated: 2016-10-29
Packaged: 2018-08-27 17:12:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8409886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anakinleias/pseuds/anakinleias
Summary: Kate’s birthdays through the years.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I've been craving some Kate love (and Kate content in general) and since we don't know when her birthday is, I decided to write my own scenarios for it. This sort of ties in with my other fic [by any other name](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8219831) but you don't have to read it to understand this one. They just happen to transpire in the same AU verse.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who helped me with this (and dofb), y'all know who you are. All mistakes are mine.

_18_

The fan blows stale, hot air into the room. The oppressive rays of the morning sun drift in through the tattered curtains of yet another nameless motel in yet another nameless small Mexican town. Kate rolls over with a sigh, eyes opening to stare at the ceiling, blinking to clear the sleepy haze.

She sighs again, remembering the date, the day she went to sleep dreading. Her birthday.

She’s turning eighteen and it’s not at all what she imagined. Expected a celebration with her family and her congregation, cake and laughter. Expected her family to be whole and happy. Not this. Hiding out in a motel in Mexico with a criminal who’s a drug addict, barely scraping by and so lost. Her mother dead, her brother a monster and having killed her own father.

She rolls onto her side to stare at Seth, back turned to her as he sleeps on his side of the bed closest to the door. His gun sits on the nightstand beside his heroin kit, both ready to kill someone (or himself). She shifts her eyes to glance at the clock, which reads 9:42 and decides to stop ignoring it and push through the day.

She heads into the bathroom with her toiletry bag and some comfortable clothes, going through her morning routine and when she comes out half an hour later freshly showered, Seth’s bed is empty. He comes back 20 minutes later with a bag of tacos and something wrapped in colorful paper, depositing both on the table before taking his turn in the shower.

She sits on her bed and watches some TV until he comes out and they move to the table. They eat in silence, passing napkins and sodas between them before settling back down in their respective beds to watch the black and white movie on the small grainy screen and making small talk.

She’s not stupid, she knows he knows. They had this talk a few weeks ago and she didn’t expect him to remember, and yet knows he does.

Seth is being uncharacteristically quiet – as quiet as he can be – all day, hasn’t shot up _yet_ and it cements her knowledge when he pushes the bright cellophane-wrapped package into her hands with a grin that widens when she opens it to reveal water guns. She looks up at him and raises a single brow, and he just nods, face turning solemn.

“Poolside. We meet at noon, Fuller.” He pointedly looks at the clock, which marks 11:54 and grabs the bright green pistol, retreating into the bathroom to load it before slipping off past her, putting on his sunglasses on his way out of the room.

“Oh, you’re going down.” She wastes no time in getting out of bed as he slams the door, doesn’t even change from her leggings and t-shirt combo before running to the bathroom to load her own neon blue gun. She quickly fills it and puts the cap back on, grabbing the plastic pink sunglasses as she races out the door.

The sun is starting to sink low into the sky when they finally stop; the pool nearby offered convenient reloads to keep the fight going for a while, both soaked to the bone. Her belly hurts from laughing, her head feels light and her smile comes a little easier.

They sit on the pool chairs and watch the sunset, sharing some paletas between them, the silence comfortable. She feels content for the first time, and even though she knows it won’t last, cherishes the good memory of this day with him.

 

_19_

Kate spends her birthday in the hospital. She’s been there for almost 5 weeks – one of which was spent in a medically induced coma following the 72-hour suicide watch after her admission.

Scott brings it up, asks if she would like to do something special. She doesn’t feel much these days, but still doesn’t have the heart to tell his expectant expression and nervous eyes that she wants to stop living. Instead, she asks him to take her to the hospital gardens, to feel the sun caress her face whilst they sit outside. He pulls his hoodie over his head and goes in search of an orderly to help move her, smiling a little easier.

He pushes her wheelchair along the path, her legs still too weak to walk long distances, and tells her about his band, about the new lyrics he’s working on and the new gigs. She just listens, head turned up to look at his face and feel the sun on her skin.

They sit on a bench under the shade of a big tree and he pulls a cupcake out of his bag, the colorful sprinkles a splash of color against the white swirl of frosting. He presents it to her and Kate hesitantly holds it in her palms, cradling it and looking over at him as he sits beside her on a bench.

“Richie baked it,” he shrugs. “He ate a chef. Told me to tell you ‘happy birthday’.” She knows they'll all be by later as usual, too bright smiles in their faces and cheery tones as they all talk about nothing and bicker, crowding her room and harassing her nurses.

She takes a bite out of the cake and feels the buttercream frosting melt in her mouth, making her eyes water with the memory of happy days with her family whole. Buttercream frosting and colorful candles, the smell of cake drifting in from the kitchen as she gets home from school, fighting Scott over licking the spoon full of batter and playing video games until her mama comes in to give her a hug.

Her eyes close and the memory fades behind her lids just as the tears fall and she lowers the cupcake to rest it on her lap, hand coming to grip Scott's as they sit on the gardens. He doesn't mention her tears and she doesn't mention the glaring absence from their mock-up of a celebration. They watch the world around them and try to heal.

 

_21_

Richie takes her to Vegas. He’s waiting outside of her classroom and walks out with her as she leaves, done with her last final, and escorts her to his car after a brief explanation consisting of various hand gestures as to what happened with her car. He has one of her black dresses and a short blond wig in a bag for her in the backseat, along with a fake mustache and a velvet red suit jacket in another bag for himself. As they sit on a plane with fake IDs, she asks him where they’re going. In lieu of an explanation, all he says is that _it’s a surprise_.

Seth had called her that morning, wishing her good luck on her final and apologizing profusely as he explained about driving overnight due to his presence being needed in California. Saying he’d _make it up to her all night long_ as soon as he came back, that he loved her and would FaceTime later to wish her a happy birthday and to go out tonight and have some fun. He didn’t mention Richie’s plans, that rat bastard.

And that’s how Kate finds herself in this situation. Wig on the floor of a fancy suite of a hotel in Las Vegas, hair mussed and make up smudged, the world spinning behind her closed lids. She has no recollection of what happened during the period in between sitting at the blackjack table and waking up with a killer headache and the feeling of something dead inside of her. She moans dejectedly and rolls into her side with a grimace, noting the sun setting in the distance between the partially open curtains of her room. Richie knocks on her door before coming in from the adjoining room, sitting on the armchair near her bed while she stares at him with misery in her eyes.

“What the hell happened last night?”

Richie tells her she was excellent, that she “made the family proud” and opens her purse to reveal a small fortune in the form of poker chips – because apparently they moved onto the poker tables at some point in the night.

He has pictures on his phone, to jog her memory, he claims. And video.

Footage of her blond self in various stages of inebriation, scamming a variety of men and wiping them clean off their money while a mustached and tacky velvet suited Richie grins on. Herself at a stripper bar at some point, getting a lap dance from a blonde Richie tells her was named Kandy Kane (cute) while he hollers in the background. Footage that apparently prompted a heated phone call from Seth at 4:37AM according to the timestamp on her phone. At which point Richie tells her she _started making sex noises_ and he left the hotel to feed and _give her some privacy_.

Kate watches it all in horror, seeing herself take shot after shot, head pounding at the various combinations of alcohol she can identify being ingested – tequila, a martini, champagne and some sort of blue drink in a big bowl at some point. Her stomach roils and she runs to the bathroom, barely making it in time. She feels disgusting, like death warmed over and she hates Richie for it, but most importantly hates her past self for thinking this was a good idea. She’s never been a heavy drinker, learned to appreciate and respect alcohol over the past few years, and to go from completely sober to blackout drunk is quite the shift.

Richie is smiling as he asks her if she’s alright, and if he wasn’t dead already, he would’ve dropped from the look she gives him. He just smiles and adjusts his glasses before handing her a bottle of water and some aspirin, which she gratefully takes and swallows two pills. She sits down on the bed and looks around the room, wondering what she’d change into since she didn’t have time to pack for this impromptu trip, and how desperate she needs the comfort of a hot shower.

Richie leaves the room and comes back with another bag from the hotel store, packed with some underwear, a light sundress and big sunglasses inside and she almost cries in relief. “You’re not my favorite person right now, but it’s pretty close.”

“Happy birthday, Kate.”

 

_25_

Kate decided on a quiet dinner for her birthday this year, refraining from drinking – can still remember the disgusting taste of death on the back of her throat and had vowed she’d never drink like that again. She did drink like that again, of course, on Scott’s 21st birthday and lived to regret it. Again.

Seth had argued, seeing as she had double reason to celebrate. Having just gotten her Master’s, she’d started getting ready to dive into getting her Doctorate. She agreed with minimal resistance, knowing she needed the break, should celebrate the win. That and she knew he wanted the chance to brag about his wife’s amazing brains, even though all their friends already know this. Being married hadn’t changed him at all, if anything he’d gotten even more sappy with her, basking in the feeling of introducing her as _my wife Kate_ and calling her _Mrs. Gecko_.

And so they have a dinner party-slash-family night, something very adult and appropriate but with just the right amount of booze thrown in to make sure they’ll be acting immature at the end of the night.

Freddie comes along with his family, 4-month-old baby Earl in his arms and diaper bag slung over his shoulder. Billie skips in, proudly smiling to show the gap where her front tooth used to be, having finally come out from being loose the last time they spoke 3 days ago. Margaret has a brightly wrapped package in one hand while holding onto 3-year-old Benjamin’s hand with the other.

Dinner is a pleasant affair, with conversation flowing lively at the table and everyone enjoying a good meal and even better wine. Despite her firm resolve, Kate feels buzzed by the time dinner is over and they clear the table for the cake. She’s walking around with baby Earl, patting his back to get him to burp and giving Margaret’s arms a rest as Freddie helps the men clear the table and do the dishes.

The baby lets out a belch and she laughs, pulling him back so she can bop his nose and he giggles, gummy smile widening and lashes fluttering closed as he lays back against her shoulder.

Seth walks out of the kitchen with a dishtowel slung over his shoulder, wiping the table and fixing himself another drink before coming to give her a kiss on the cheek. “Happy birthday, Mrs. Gecko.”

She tilts her head to touch their lips before going back to patting Earl’s back and sways on the spot as he sighs, and Seth stares at the baby with a frown. “It’s crazy how you do that, it’s like some kind of magic shit.”

“I want one,” she turns to stare at him and he chokes on the sip he’s taking, eyes widening as he looks at her.

“What?” He manages to croak out between coughs.

“I said I want one. Of these,” she motions the baby for emphasis, and he clears his throat to get rid of the discomfort and looks at her. Really looks.

Contrary to popular belief, he’s not oblivious. Not when it comes to her. He’s seen the way she looks at baby Earl, at any baby they see on the street, saw the way she was when Margaret was pregnant. He knows Kate wants a baby. He’d be a liar to say he didn’t want a family with her, had never pictured a little girl with his eyes and her smile, that he’d never caressed her stomach and imagined it swollen with a baby kicking at his palm.

“Just think about it,” is all she says as she walks away to put the baby on the bed in the guest room, having finally drifted off while Seth was busy having a goddamn panic attack.

Scott walks back in from the kitchen with the cake, Richie and Freddie following closely behind and they all start a chorus of Happy Birthday as Kate comes back, smiling at her family and all thoughts of baby put aside to enjoy their evening. Seth’s mind cannot seem to focus though, constantly drifting back to her words, to that picture perfect image in his mind. It shows through, with him and Scott losing at Pictionary and he blames it on the alcohol.

It’s only later, when they’re just on the other side of tipsy and sloppily making out as they make their way into the bedroom, that he decides finally say anything about their earlier talk. He pulls back from the kiss and puts his finger against her lips when she tries to chase them with her own.

“Did you really mean it? About having a baby?”

“Yes.” She kisses the pad of his finger before wrapping her lips around it, sucking it into her mouth and making him groan.

He pulls his finger away from her mouth to run his hands down her sides, squeezing her ass, hooking an arm around her leg and wrapping it around his hip, bringing her flush against him. She crushes her mouth to his and moans when he lays open-mouthed kisses on her neck, bringing her other leg up to fully wrap them around his hips as he starts to walk them back towards the bed.

“Then I guess we better start practicing.”

**Author's Note:**

> Constructive criticism is appreciated, as are kudos and comments.


End file.
